


Veritas

by mille_libri



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mille_libri/pseuds/mille_libri
Summary: Gideon Hawke has spent one too many nights sitting by Fenris's fire, drinking his wine.





	Veritas

Refilling his glass, Gideon Hawke sighed. “I wonder if I’ll have any wines as fine as this one in Orlais?”

The corner of Fenris’s mouth turned up in amusement. “You truly believe Duke Prosper’s cellar is less well stocked than this mansion’s? Perhaps you have spent too much time at the Hanged Man.”

“Even the Rose doesn’t have wines like this.” Gideon took a reflective swallow of the exceptionally fine vintage, closing his eyes in pleasure as it went down.

Fenris looked quickly away. He remembered, all too well, putting that same look of pleasure on Hawke’s face himself, once, and would have given anything to be afforded the opportunity to do so again. He cleared his throat. “Duke Prosper is hardly a madam.”

“More like a madman, from what I’ve heard. It should be an interesting party.”

“Hawke. You will be careful? This … Tallis … does not seem trustworthy.”

Gideon grinned. “Oh, I’m sure she isn’t. For one thing, if there was a ‘Heart of the Many’ Isabela would have heard of it. What she doesn’t know about jewels isn’t worth knowing.”

“But Isabela is not accompanying you?”

“No. I’m bringing Aveline—it’ll be good for her to have to clean up and dance around with the swells a little. I think the Seneschal is grooming her to take over for him when he, inevitably, becomes Viscount. Besides, it’ll take her mind off her upcoming nuptials. She’s gone a little bit crazy, between you and me.”

“I am hardly known for my expertise in these areas, but is that not common for a woman in her situation?”

Gideon nodded, taking another appreciative sip of the wine. “Good point. Still, it looks a little strange on Aveline.”

“And your other companion? Were you able to arrange a leave for Mistress Bethany?”

“Sadly, no. Meredith made a point of saying how much she wished she could accommodate the ‘Champion’, but she meant the exact opposite. She never has forgiven me for saving the day.” Gideon turned his head, the full force of his brilliant blue eyes meeting Fenris’s. “Not that I did much—it was all you.”

“Hardly.” They looked at each other for a heady moment that nearly took Fenris’s breath away, the memory of what they had once shared nearly palpable between them.

Then Gideon broke the look, emptying half his glass in a single gulp. “Have it your way.”

“So … if you could not take Bethany—?” Fenris was unable to finish the sentence, jealousy, black and corrosive, bubbling up in his chest.

“Yes. Anders is coming along.”

“You cannot trust him,” Fenris said sharply.

“If you ever meet anyone you think I can trust, you let me know.”

Fenris let the remark pass. He had his reservations about all of Gideon’s companions, but to elaborate would be both unnecessary, as Gideon already knew what he would say, and a painful reminder that Fenris had given up any chance he’d ever had at being the one person Gideon could trust without reservations.

In the silence, Gideon cleared his throat. “Well, I should be going.” He drained the wine glass, looking at the dregs wistfully, then put it down at his feet, rising from the chair. With one hand on the back of the chair, he paused as if he had something to say.

Alarmed, Fenris rose to his feet as well, the look on Gideon’s face filling him with a nameless alarm.

At last, Gideon forced the words out with obvious effort. “I … won’t be back.”

The short sentence struck Fenris with all the force of a physical blow. “You mean, until you return from Orlais?”

“No. Not at all.” Gideon swallowed hard, his face twisted in pain that mirrored Fenris’s own. “I’ll see you at the Hanged Man and about Kirkwall, of course, but … these nights, here with you, alone …” He shook his head. “Fenris, I want so much more than this. I want you. All of you. And as long as I can’t have you …” The sentence ended on an upward lilt, a question, a flicker of hope lighting those extraordinary blue eyes.

There had never been anything in Fenris’s memory that he wished more than to be able to offer Gideon what he wanted, what Fenris himself desired with equal fervor. But fear filled him, too, fear like ice. The blackness in his mind where his memories should have dwelt seemed to weigh on him in all its corrosiveness, and the scraps of memory that had come back to him as he writhed in Gideon’s arms teased at him again, maddeningly just out of reach. The pain of having and losing those memories was as present in his mind as the pleasure of Gideon’s touch, and equally as terrifying. “I … cannot,” he said, slowly and painfully.

Gideon released a breath Fenris hadn’t been aware he had been holding. “I thought as much. Good-bye, Fenris.”

The finality of it was a sword to the vitals. It was all Fenris could do not to double over with the agony, but he would not cause Gideon any more pain than he already had by showing how this hurt him. Returning the farewell was more than he could force himself to do, however, and he stood mute as Gideon walked to the door.

He paused there in the doorway, then turned in a rush, closing the distance between them in three swift steps. 

And suddenly, unbelievably, Fenris was in his arms, Gideon’s mouth warm and demanding against his. Heat filled Fenris, melting whatever resistance he might have managed to summon, and he moaned, his lips parting. Gideon’s hands were in Fenris’s hair, moving restlessly as though he were memorizing the texture. His lean, wiry body pressed Fenris against the back of the chair as his hungry mouth took possession.

The kiss went on and on, weakening Fenris’s knees, filling him with a heat that began to melt the icy clutch of fear that held him captive. He held Gideon’s face in his hands,wanting to hold him here forever, to hold on to this moment in which the longing and the need were the only thing in his mind and heart.

And then Gideon broke the kiss, his hands reaching up to grasp Fenris’s wrists and pull Fenris’s hands from his face. He rested his forehead against Fenris’s for a moment, his eyes closed, and then he was gone, and Fenris stood cold and bereft against the chair, weeping unashamedly at the loss and at the memory of Gideon’s face as he turned away for the last time.

Slowly, the storm passed and left Fenris very calm, fully aware of the situation in a way he had not been before. Danarius had done this. His ritual had stripped Fenris of his past and left him vulnerable to magic; his years of abuse had terrorized Fenris and caused him to push away the only person who truly cared for him; his was the fear that gripped Fenris and kept him isolated and constantly on edge. He had hurt Gideon, broken his heart, for Danarius. All these years later, Fenris was still bent to the will of his former master.

No longer, he vowed. Going to the desk in the center of the ruined room, Fenris searched through the debris that lay there for the scrap of paper the sailor had brought him, the one that held his sister’s address. He would write to her, he would bring her here, and he would reclaim himself, past and present. And when that was done, he would go to Gideon and beg forgiveness.

He only hoped it would not be too late.


End file.
